Touched By A Memory
by Niyari
Summary: Behind Yuki's eyes are the thoughts of a lover, what he sees and how he really feels. The preference of a man without boundaries. Possibly a oneshot, M for minor citrus.
1. Preference

I prefer subtle elegance.

No better way to say it than that. I am a romantic person, but you wouldn't guess from my manner, or the way I treat people.

I think more than I speak.

I understand myself better that way.

* * *

"Damn brat."

He whimpers and nuzzles and pines at my side, and I smirk in a way he can't see. His mouth brushes the skin on my hand, on my arm, shoulder, face. He hugs me and I am enveloped by the strange scent of honey and peppermint. I never expect those scents, though I've known them on his skin for years.

I expect fruit. But he is not one to yield to your imagination and its desires.

"Get off me." My voice is fuzzy from his arms covering my mouth.

"Sorry." He sits down again, looking for all the world like a little puppy, lost in an alley, without the knowledge of love in his heart. I feel a tug in my chest telling me _be nicer_ and I ignore it like always.

"Out."

"What?"

"Out! Out of this room, I'm working."

His eyes fill with tears, and like a mother, I wish to become slightly frantic and hold him and tell him not to cry. But again I steel myself and glare at the silent weeping, letting him know that I mean it.

He slowly crawls away whimpering softly and shuts the door behind him. I continue to work on my writing, often redoing sentences after they became too complicated to understand.

After a while, I cease effort all together. His heartbroken expression keeps seeping through my focus. I can't just leave him to cry. I never have; really, sometimes it just takes me longer to show my regret. The document is saved for another day and I stand and stretch and walk off to find him, forlorn and miserable on the leather couch, vacantly watching a muted T.V.

"Shuichi?" I whisper, leaning in the doorway. His eyes shift their position from the screen to my eyes and I know he understands… I am sorry.

He stands up, and walks to me, and embraces me in a hug.

This time when he forgives, it is not with joy, but he trembles with sorrow. He is still upset.

"What do you need?" I ask in his ear, and he clutches me tighter and cries harder and I wonder if I've really broken him this time.

"I just want to be near you, I want to spend time with you."

He request is so simple; I have no reason to deny it. "Alright."

He looks up from his hold on me and smiles, tears still cascading from his violet eyes. "I love you, Yuki." He tells me, hushed and undertone like it's a secret. I kiss him in my response, the only way I've ever known to tell him "I love you too."

He kisses back harder and clutches my shirt with urgency, to tell me what he wants to do, right now. I smile in his lips and pick him up, his light body clinging to me as I make the way to the bedroom and lay him on the sheets.

In moments we are undressed, only able to see each other's faces by the celestial light of the moon and its stars, peeking through the curtains. He holds onto me as we do something we have never really done before. Every time we have sex, that's all it is, sex. This time, we are truly doing what clichéd love stories always tell you about.

We are making love.

But the kisses are still bruising, the love-bites on his neck and mine are still there, there is still moaning and a cry from his lips and it's still just as urgent and full-filling as ever. The only difference is how we both feel as we do this.

We didn't do this because one or the other (or both) of us were horny.

We didn't do this because we just felt like it.

We did it because we love each other.

_That's _something special…

And as we sat panting in the middle of the night, staring into each others eyes, there was something right in that moment. Everything just felt like it was going to be okay. And I haven't felt that way since I was sixteen years old. He buried his face against me, and immediately fell asleep, I'm not sure if I did the same, or stayed awake, my memory doesn't serve.

But I woke up in the early morning, to his slumbering face adorning my pillow. And I smiled, really smiled, at just him for the first time.

"I love you Shuichi." I said out loud and began to stroke his hair. In his sleep he smiled as I said those words. I'm not sure if he heard me, or was simply having a pleasant dream.

I smile and close my eyes again, this time falling asleep immediately, but not before hearing his sweet voice telling me something I know, and don't know at the same time.

"I love you too Yuki."

Maybe he did hear me.

* * *

I prefer subtle elegance.

I said this at the beginning, and let me explain what it means. It means I love with all my heart, if I come to find I love something. It means I cherish and breathe that love, if I come to find it's something that loves me too. I have adorned this feeling twice in my life. In this moment, and the year I went to New York to find I loved a man who knew no such emotion existed.

I have been scarred by both encounters. One left marks of hatred, and gave this beautiful boy next me, the man I am today.

The other left me a memory.

And I'm sure now that you understand why exactly I prefer this subtle elegance. And emotion of love.

Do not ask me why I feel so. I just do.

And it makes me all the better.


	2. Understanding

**Chapter Two**

I understand now why he loved me. Why we were meant to be. Why we always fought, and made up, only to break up and make up again.

Shuichi was never my type. To loud, to rambunctious, to clingy and needy and out there and wild for my taste. He was a pink-haired, purple-eyed, one shot of energy and love and madness. He was everything I was not, and everything I had convinced myself that I ultimately detested.

Funny thing, how the world works out.

I suppose I should have known better than to believe that I could keep myself away from all that the sane world throws. Shuichi is the picture of a working kid, crazy and hopeful, everything I may have missed out on as a child. Shuichi is the arrow of love and aura of hope that I let shimmer around me.

Sometimes I wonder if I live through him.

But no, I tell myself. Of course not, because I live in my own way.

Shuichi smiles and I glow inside, a little piece of my heart melting with love for the brat. He cries, that same piece twinges with guilt if it's my fault, and anger when it's not.

He has me wrapped up in his embrace, squeezing to tight, and I don't want him to let go.

If he did, I might go crazy. If he did, I might die.

If Shuichi left me, I'd be one sorry bastard.

It doesn't mean I can't be evil, harsh, the very definition of stoic icy cruelty. Just because he loves me, doesn't mean that I always love him. Just because he makes me see the world in a different light, doesn't mean that I don't hate the vision sometimes.

Shuichi is odd like that. He is everything you need and hate all in one. I have to pick and chose between him and prior lifestyles, I have to decide, sometimes, whether or not he really is worth it.

It must be saying something that I haven't left him completely yet.

It must really be saying something that he hasn't left me.

* * *

A/N: To get over my writers block, I started playing with old, previously written fanfics. I came up with this, and I wanted to se what my devoted readers really thought. Thanks for giving it a shot! 


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